


What The Future Holds

by afteriwake



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1546943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early into Sherlock and Joan's relationship as sober companion and client Sherlock takes her to a fortune teller to debunk the woman. But what the woman tells her ends up coming true, much to both of their surprise, and Joan gets a chance at happiness that she hadn't expected to have otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Future Holds

**Author's Note:**

> Answering two prompts this time! The first is my **land_deduction** Bingo fill of "Autumn (Fall)" on the Both Shows card and the second is the following **imagineyourotp** prompt: "Imagine Person A of your OTP visiting a fortune teller, who describes his/her soulmate to them. A week later, they bump into Person B, who fits the description exactly."

Joan had never been the type to believe in magic or the occult. She had only been living with Sherlock for a week and currently she was looking at his collection of books. Most of what she saw she could understand him having, because they were things that would facilitate his career as a consultant. But her gaze kept drifting towards the books she thought didn't fit: the books on ESP and palm reading and other occult nonsense. She picked up one on numerology and glanced at the back cover.

“You know, it's absolute poppycock,” Sherlock said as he looked up from his position on the floor, where he was sitting cross-legged and working on taking apart a lock.

“Then why do you have books about it?” he asked.

“Research. Not everyone believes in science as the absolute truth. Some believe in the occult and all that nonsense, but I can't pick them apart if I don't know their beliefs.” He studied her. “Do you ever wonder if there's anything more out there?”

“What, like God or fate or something?” she asked, setting the book back in its spot. Sherlock nodded. “I don't really know. I believe there's something guiding people, but I don't know if it's God.”

“An agnostic belief system,” he said with a nod.

“Do you?” she asked.

“Do I what?”

“Believe in a higher power of some sort.”

He looked at her. “Is this a roundabout way of asking me about my progress on those many steps you keep harping me about?”

Joan sighed. She'd had clients who particularly didn't want her help, but none had been as obstinate as Sherlock was. “Forget I asked.”

“We should do something,” he said, standing up. “Something where I can prove to you it's all utter tripe. We should go find a fortune teller.”

“I already don't believe in the occult,” she said as he moved over to her. “You don't need to prove anything to me.”

“Then think of it as a lesson in learning to stop a charlatan at his or her own game,” he said, grabbing her hand. He pulled her towards the coat rack. “If I'm going to have you assisting me then I want to at least see what your skill level is. We'll go to a local palm reader and you can tell me how it is they're coming up with their so-called predictions.”

“Sherlock--” she began, but then stopped when he looked at her. He seemed eager to do this. Almost giddy, actually. She looked at him for a moment. “We do this, you go to two meetings today.”

He looked as though he was debating it in his head, and then he sighed. “Fine. Two meetings. I'll even try and stay awake through them.” He picked up her coat and shook it. “Let's be off soon.”

She shook her head and took her coat from him, slipping it on as he did the same. They both put on their scarves as well. It was autumn in New York, and that mean it was brisk and usually a bit windy. They made their way outside and paused as Sherlock locked up after them, and then they made their way down the street. She wondered where on earth he was taking them; it was a chillier day today than she had expected, and she was already starting to regret agreeing to this adventure. But she had gotten him to agree to two meetings, so at least that was a small victory for her. As the wind picked up she saw dead leaves fall from the trees. Normally she would take a moment to appreciate the view of all the trees with their red and yellow and orange leaves but Sherlock was walking at a fast clip and it was all she could do to keep up.

He didn't speak as he walked, which surprised her. Normally he talked a mile a minute, she had found, rushing from one topic to another, one idea to the next, in a way that made it hard to follow. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to it, not really. Not that she really needed to for her to finish this job. She really just needed to make sure he stayed sober. But he intrigued her. There was something about him that appealed to her. Not in a romantic or sexual way; she'd never have that type of relationship with one of her clients, not during or after her time with them. But she'd helped with two cases so far and there was something about watching him come to life when he was working that attracted her to him, made her want to see what made all of the case solving so fascinating for him. It made her wonder if one day it ever might be that fascinating for her.

It took them nearly twenty minutes before he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She nearly ran into him because he had stopped so suddenly. He turned around quickly and looked at her. “A palm reader. That should suffice.”

“Sherlock, really, do we need to do this?” she asked as another gust of wind blew by them. It really was cold, like the colder winds of winter were just around the corner and they weren't hesitating to hurry autumn along and edge it out quickly. “Look, I'll just make you go to one meeting today if we can go home.”

“As I stated before, I want to see what you can do. I don't think there will be a better opportunity than seeing what you can do against someone who fleeces unsuspecting and gullible people out of their money.” He moved to the nearby door and opened it. “After you.”

Joan bit back a sigh and walked into the shop. It looked warm and cozy, almost like a very nice living room. It also smelled very nice. She wondered for a moment what type of incense would give off that smell and where she could get some before Sherlock was in behind her. He moved past her and looked around. “Hello! We would like to make use of your services.” he called out.

There was a sound from a curtained off section of the room in the back, and soon a woman came out. She didn't look like anyone Joan would have expected. She would have thought the woman would have a long flowing skirt and a gauzy shirt and a colorful shawl or scarf with another scarf around her head. She had expected someone who looked like a stereotypical Gypsy, not an older woman who looked as though she would fit in perfectly in a 1950s sitcom. The woman came over to them with a smile. “Hello. How may I help you?” she asked.

“You're the fortune teller. You tell us,” Sherlock said, crossing his arms and fixing her with a mild glare.

“I'm not a fraud,” she said in a soft voice that hid steel underneath. “You must assume I'm a charlatan. Well, I'm not.”

Sherlock scoffed. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

“I could read your palm, see what the past and the future hold for you,” she replied.

Joan happened to be looking at him when she mentioned the past. A tiny bit of panic crossed his face. That was an interesting reaction, she thought to herself. Every addict had a story, and it usually wasn't pleasant. She wondered if she would ever hear his, if she would know why he had panicked. But it was gone just as quickly as it had come up. “I don't believe in it,” he said after a moment.

“If you're here to try and debunk me I'm not interested. I get enough of that from the Christians who like to come in and tell me how I'm a sinner and an abomination to God.” She lifted up an arm and pointed to the door. “Please leave.”

“I'm interested in a reading,” Joan said quickly. “Is it done out here?”

The woman shook her head. “I can do it in a private room.”

“You. Stay here. Don't leave,” Joan said towards Sherlock.

“How will I know what tripe she's feeding you if I'm not present?” he asked.

“You'll have to take my word for it,” Joan said with a shrug. “So stay put.”

“I am not a dog,” he said with a pout. Joan gave him a mild glare and he held her gaze for a full minute before he sighed. “Fine, fine. Go off and have your private reading.”

“If you will follow me,” the woman said. Joan gave Sherlock one last look and then turned to follow the woman. They went farther back into the shop. “Do you believe in things like what I claim to do?” she asked as they went behind the curtain.

“No, not really,” Joan replied as the woman led her to a room.

“Most people don't, initially. But I am very good at what I do.” She gestured to a chair on one side of the table that was in the center of the room. “I can do a palm reading and tarot cards, or if you prefer I can use a crystal ball.”

“Which one of the most accurate?” she asked.

“Well, that depends. What do you want to know?” she asked as they sat down.

“I guess you can tell me about my love life. If there's any hope left for me.”

The woman smiled at her. “You don't need a fortune teller to tell you if there's any hope for you. There's always hope.”

“If only my mother believed that,” Joan said with a wry smile.

The woman chuckled. “All mothers hold out hope for their unmarried daughters until the day they walk down the aisle. Then the hope becomes that the marriage will last for many years and brings them grandchildren.”

Joan's smile became less wry. “I suppose so.”

“Give me your hand,” she said. “I'll read your palm and then use my crystal ball. I think that should give you a fairly accurate reading.” Joan put her hand on the table, palm up. The woman grasped it lightly, and Joan wasn't surprised to see her hands were very soft. She gazed at it for a few moments. “When you do meet your soulmate, it will take some time for you to become romantically involved. You will be colleagues first, then friends, then lovers. You wouldn't even have realized he was your soulmate until he'd captured your heart. While you wait for the romance to start you'll have other boyfriends, other lovers, but you'll find yourself wanting more and they won't give it to you.”

“That sounds like all the men I've dated already,” she said.

“There won't be too many more, I promise.” She let go of Joan's hand and then moved over a small crystal ball. “Do you want to know specifics about this gentleman?”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt,” she said with a nod.

“Then put your hands on the base of the crystal ball,” she said. Joan did as she was instructed. The woman gazed into the depths for a minute or so before she spoke. “He is young. Slightly younger than you, but not much. He does good things, saves people, solves things. He's very smart, and also very witty and sometimes very sarcastic. He isn't going to like your friend out there much, but the two of you will hit it off immediately. You'll both commiserate about Mr. Holmes when he's not around.”

“How did you know his name?” Joan asked, surprised. She could have sworn she'd never said his name the whole time they had been in the shop.

“It's written very clearly in front of me,” she said. “Back to your soulmate. His initials are M.B. He is a very handsome man, with quite a pleasant smile. You'll meet for the first time in a setting that is familiar to you, a place where you used to feel comfortable but you no longer like to spend any time at. It will not be a very long meeting, but it will be the first of many. By the time the two of you do enter into a romantic relationship you will have known each other for at least a year, possibly two. You will have been through a lot together, you and your other friends, but you will both come out of all those encounters with a stronger bond than you had before.”

“That's...interesting,” she said slowly.

The woman leaned back in her seat. “Normally I charge for these sessions, but I think I would like to make you a deal. You're to meet this man within a week. If you do not, you can come back and your friend can publicly denounce me as a fraud. But if you do meet him, come back and tell me and we'll see if we can work out an arrangement for today's session.”

Joan thought about it. “How much do you charge?” she asked.

“A hundred dollars. But if I am right I'll charge you half of what I normally charge. You're a skeptic as well. Not as much as your friend, but enough.”

“How do you know I won't come back even if I meet him?”

“Because I can tell you are an incredibly trustworthy person. If you make a promise you keep it unless you are no longer able to by circumstances beyond your control.” She extended her hand over the crystal ball. “Do we have a deal?”

Joan studied her hand for a minute or so, then she reached over and shook it. “Deal.”

“Good,” the woman said with a smile. “I'll see you again in a week, I'm sure.” She stood up, and Joan stood up as well. “Oh. The incense I use is applewood. I can give you some, if you'd like.”

“How could you tell I was wondering that?” Joan asked, her eyes wide.

She chuckled. “When I first came out I saw you inhale deeply and smile. It's not as though I can read people's thoughts. If you like the cones I give you you can pick up more from the Jamaican market at the end of the block.”

“Thank you,” Joan said with a smile. The woman left after that and returned a few minutes later with a small Ziploc bag with five incense cones in it. Joan put it in her coat pocket and then followed the woman out of the room. She saw Sherlock standing there, inspecting a sign with a frown on his face. The woman cleared her throat and he popped back into a standing position. “We're done,” Joan said.

“And how much did she take you for?” Sherlock asked.

“Nothing,” Joan said as she went over to him. She pointed to the door. “Come on. Let's go get some food.”

Sherlock glanced back at the woman, then back at Joan. Finally he walked towards the door. He opened it and stepped out first and she followed him. He was quiet for a few minutes as they made their way back to the brownstone. “So what did she say?”

“We talked about my love life. I'm supposed to meet my soulmate in a week. Possibly less.”

Sherlock made a noise of disgust. “What a load of bull. There are no such things as soulmates. And how would you even know, anyway? No one can tell why one relationship works and another doesn't. Certainly not a woman like her. I wouldn't get your hopes up you'll meet the love of your life in a week.” He shook his head. “This whole afternoon was a waste. Let's go home.”

“Nope. Meeting first,” Joan said. Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but she glared. “You promised.”

He sighed after a moment. “Fine, fine. I'll go to your meeting.”

“Two of them,” Joan said. “You're the one who agreed to it.”

Sherlock began to pout. “Fine. I am, after all, a man of my word.” He paused then. “Most of the time.”

“Try your best to stay awake,” Joan said with a slight smirk.

“If you insist.”

“I do,” she said with a nod. He picked up his pace instead of replying back, and she hurried to catch up. She didn't really believe what the woman said, either, but she'd keep her eyes and ears open. It didn't hurt to keep an open mind, even if Sherlock refused to do the same.


End file.
